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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132426">A Vivid Mistake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeLittleInfamy/pseuds/ByTheAngell'>ByTheAngell (SomeLittleInfamy)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood Drinking, Blood and Torture, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Loss of Control, POV Simon Lewis, Starvation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:28:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeLittleInfamy/pseuds/ByTheAngell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kidnapped and on the brink of starvation, the last person Simon wants to see as his instincts take over and he loses control is his best friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clary Fray &amp; Simon Lewis, Simon Lewis &amp; Alec Lightwood, Simon Lewis &amp; Isabelle Lightwood, Simon Lewis &amp; Jace Wayland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fluff vs. Angst Battle 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar102/gifts">Skylar102</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar102">Morgan</a>, who suggested 'Simon loses control and feeds off of Clary almost completely draining her of blood' when I said I wanted to write some angst but didn't have any solid ideas. Hope I did it justice! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Simon loses track of how long he’s held captive. It’s easier to not think about it, to try and convince himself that surely it’s just been a few hours, not a few days, certainly not closing in on a full week since he woke up chained to a wall in an empty, unfamiliar room. </p><p>The chains, thick metal around his wrists and ankles, are really, <em>really </em>strong. They’re long enough to allow him a few feet of movement to pace, to try and get enough speed going for the momentum to maybe pull himself free, but he can’t. These were made to hold beings with supernatural strength. This isn’t some impromptu attack - this is professional and thought out. Occasionally a sprinkler system overhead rains down a fine mist of holy water that singes his skin, breaking it into blisters and burns that his body works quickly to heal, only to have the water turn on again the moment the last of them fades. </p><p>He’d be impressed if he wasn’t, you know, the one being tortured. </p><p>At first Simon is given small meals of blood, left while he’s sleeping (or passed out, the difference is difficult to tell apart now). He held out as long as he could the first time until he wore himself out trying and failing to break free, finally admitting to himself that he needs the energy more than he needs his pride. It’s just enough to keep him alive, and only barely at that. The more his body fights against the wounds and the chains the more exhausted he grows. The blood starts to come less frequently and in smaller portions. At first, Simon assumes they’re keeping him alive for something - to get something out of him, maybe, or as leverage, or bait -  but now? </p><p>Now, unable to remember the last time he ate, Simon isn’t so sure keeping him alive is a priority anymore. </p><p>When the mist of holy water sprays him his body doesn’t even have the energy to properly heal itself. He collapses to the floor, shaking until he’s too weak to do even that, his body growing unnaturally still. For someone who is technically dead, this is the closest to death he’s ever actually felt. </p><p>That’s when he hears it. After days of nothing but silence he hears voices: shouted warnings, grunts of exertion, cries of pain, the clattering of weapons, the sound of a gunshot. He smells the blood next. It’s all faint, his senses dimmed from fatigue, but it’s enough to bring him unsteadily to his feet, fangs bared, straining against his chains to get closer to the source. </p><p>When a person emerges from the dark hallway behind the open doorway on the far side of the room Simon expects to see a stranger - one of his captors, maybe, or someone working against whoever his captors are. He gave up on the idea of his friends finding him a while back, figuring if they could have they would have by now, surely. If he’s being honest, Simon mostly assumed until this moment that he was going to die here alone. </p><p>So when a familiar swirl of red hair emerges, rushing toward him at full speed, Simon fights every urge he has and pushes himself away from her, back against the wall. </p><p>“No,” he says, the word coming out in nothing more than a broken whisper, barely a sound at all. </p><p>“Simon! Simon, it’s me,” Clary says, mistaking his panic for a lack of recognition. </p><p>“No,” he repeats, louder now. “No, you can’t-” </p><p>“It’s okay. I’m here now, I’m going to get you out of there.” Clary’s so confident, moving quickly with her stele out to draw runes on the door to his cell so that it’ll open for her.</p><p>“Don’t!” Simon cries out. “Don’t come in here. You can’t.” He’s too exhausted, his brain won’t get the necessary information from his head to his lips as he pushes himself farther back against the wall, as if he isn’t already as far back as he can go, as if he might be able to melt into the stone itself if he tries hard enough. </p><p>“You’re safe now. I’m going to get you out of here. We’ll take you home, and-” Clary swings the door open and Simon lunges forward, struggling against the chains that are the only thing keeping him from attacking his best friend. </p><p>Clary hesitates in the doorway. “Si…” </p><p>“Stay out,” he warns, dropping to his knees again after just that brief exertion, fangs still bared and eyes full of hunger and desperate longing. The world seems to spin around him, the noises and the smells and <em>the blood</em> are too much and it’s dizzying, clouding his judgment. He can hear her pulse thumping in her wrists and neck, the smell of blood from a cut on her arm making his empty stomach turn with need, a reminder of how empty he is. He’s <em>starving. </em></p><p>His instinctive needs take over - suddenly it doesn’t matter that it’s Clary, all that matters is that she has blood, and he <em>needs</em> <em>that blood</em>. He closes his eyes and stops moving entirely, feigning unconsciousness. Clary takes a few tentative steps closer and that’s all Simon needs. She’s within reach of his chains if he fully extends them. </p><p>So he does. </p><p>The next thing Simon’s actively aware of is the taste of blood in his mouth. The warm, metallic sensation seems to wash over his whole body as he drinks from the spot at the base of her neck, that infernally thumping pulse point that’s so damn loud it makes his own head throb with the echo of it. He’s dimly aware of arms struggling against him, of hair and clothing and flesh staining with deep crimson blood, but it feels distant and detached. </p><p>He needs to drink. He needs to keep drinking, his body fighting to make up for all it was deprived, his strength slowly returning, his senses sharpening. The body in his grip struggles less and less. The blood comes slower now, despite Simon drinking deeper the more power he regains. </p><p>The pulse beneath his teeth grows fainter. </p><p>Simon is so singularly focused that he barely notices the heavy thud of boots against the stone floor as they run toward him or the deep voice that shouts his and Clary’s names in turn. </p><p>The body he holds goes entirely limp. </p><p>Then, suddenly, there are hands on Simon’s shoulders pulling him back with a rough tug. He tries to move away but forgot about the chains which promptly snap him back, causing him to drop the body in his hands.  </p><p>The body. </p><p>Simon watches the way it falls lifeless to the ground at his feet, a mass of dark clothing and black runes on pale skin and red hair, both in natural color and unnatural stains of blood. He sees it - no, not it, <em>Clary</em> - clearly for the first time since he started feeding, and his whole world stops. </p><p>Simon staggers until his back collides with the wall, not out of physical weakness but out of shock. </p><p>The hands that pulled him off of her belonged to Jace, who now kneels at Clary’s side, pushing her hair back and bringing his fingers up to the base of her neck, then under her nose. She’s so still. So perfectly still, Simon can’t see the rise and fall of her chest, he can’t hear her pulse, he can’t… he can’t… </p><p>“Clary…” Simon manages, choking out the name in a sound that’s more sob than speech. </p><p>Jace reels on him just as more figures enter the room, the sound of footsteps rushing toward them as Jace’s fist collides with Simon’s jaw once, and then again. Simon has the strength to fight back now but he doesn’t, he simply collapses to his knees and allows Jace to descend on him with fists and swift kicks, knowing he deserves this and so much more. For a brief moment, Simon thinks that Jace may actually kill him, and Simon knows that he’d let him. </p><p>“Jace!” </p><p>“Jace stop!” </p><p>Simon recognizes the voices of Alec and Isabelle as they arrive and pull their brother off of him. Simon’s crying, but not because of the pain he feels from Jace’s assault. “Did I-” he starts, but the words die on his lips. “Is she-” He can’t bring himself to finish the question. </p><p>“Did you <em>kill her?</em>” Jace snarls, finishing it for him. “Is she <em>dead?</em>” </p><p>“He didn’t mean-”</p><p>“She’s barely breathing, Izzy, I don’t give a fuck what he <em>meant </em>to do,” Jace snaps, his hand twitching where it falls to rest on the hilt of the blade on his hip. </p><p><em>Barely</em>. Simon picks up on the word, that one little word that brings him more relief than he’s ever felt in his entire life. She’s still breathing. She’s still alive. </p><p>Alec’s on the phone, a quick exchange before he pockets it and turns back to the small group. “Magnus will be here soon, and Catarina will be waiting for us in the Infirmary.” </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Simon says. </p><p>“Not as sorry as you’re going to be if she doesn’t make it through this,” Jace says. This time his words are cold and even, which is somehow more terrifying than the unbridled rage Jace showed only moments before. </p><p>Nobody touches Clary. </p><p>Simon can’t remember her ever looking that pale before, the red of the blood and the black of the runes on her skin standing out in stark contrast. Simon thinks he might be sick at the sight. His chest feels tight despite the fact that he doesn’t need to breathe, his body recreating the physical sensations of a panic attack. </p><p>Isabelle looks at him in concern. “Simon, we know it was an accident-” she starts to move toward him but Simon stands up and takes several hurried steps away from her before she can reach him. She stops, a pained look crossing her face. </p><p>“I nearly killed her. I would’ve killed her if Jace hadn’t-” Simon’s words choke off in another sob. “I told her to stay out but she didn’t listen.” </p><p>“Of course she didn’t,” Jace says. There are tears in his eyes now but he fights to keep his voice even. “Because she trusted you.” </p><p>Simon flinches at Jace’s words, words that hurt him more than every physical blow combined. It’s true. Clary trusted him and look where it got her. Simon isn’t sure what he’ll do if she doesn’t pull through... if Magnus and Catarina and the shadowhunter medics can’t save her life... </p><p>If he killed her. </p><p>Magnus arrives, spares a look in Simon’s direction to eye the chains still tethering him to the wall, then drops to Clary’s side with blue magic forming almost immediately at his fingertips. His posture changes, tensing visibly, the magic stopping abruptly. “We need to get her to Catarina,” he says, but there’s an edge to his words that doesn’t feel right. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” Jace asks immediately. </p><p>“Now,” Magnus insists, not elaborating as he opens a portal in front of them. Alec lifts Clary into his arms like she weighs nothing, her arms and legs flopping like a ragdoll in his hold as he carries her through the portal with him. </p><p>Isabelle moves toward Simon, stele out, likely to remove his chains to take him with them until Jace stops her. </p><p>“Leave him,” Jace says. It isn’t a suggestion. </p><p>“Jace-” Isabelle starts, but Jace silences her protest with a glare. </p><p>“Leave him,” Jace repeats, before following Alec through the portal. </p><p>“Look at him, Magnus,” Isabelle says once Jace is gone and it’s just the three of them left. He knows what he must look like and has no doubt that he could benefit from some healing magic of his own but he doesn’t deserve Isabelle’s concern or comfort. He deserves to sit here, alone, a prisoner not only of his own mind but of these chains that keep him bound and waiting. He deserves the pain of his body healing over the bruises left by Jace’s fists and boots, the blisters and burns still present from the last shower of holy water. </p><p>He deserves to be left in this room to rot for what he did, whether Clary recovers or not. He can never face her again, he can never face any of them again, not after this. </p><p>“I think it’ll be better for everyone if you wait here,” Magnus says, addressing Simon for the first time since he arrived. “I’ll come back for you later.”</p><p>Later. After they take care of Clary. After they heal her from the damage Simon caused. After they decide what they’re going to do with him, do <em>to him</em>.  </p><p>Simon nods. He wants to go, of course he does. He wants to make sure Clary’s alright, maybe there’s something he can do to help, something he can do to fix this… but he doesn’t deserve to be there. </p><p>He’s surprised to feel the tingling of magic against his wrists and ankles, followed by the sound of heavy metal dropping to the floor around him. His arms and legs feel significantly lighter without the weight of the chains holding them down. </p><p>“Just wait here. It’s going to be alright, Simon.” </p><p>Simon nods again, the only sign that he hears a word they say to him. His entire body feels numb. </p><p>Isabelle leaves first, then Magnus, and then Simon is alone. </p><p>He paces back and forth, his brain fixating on the worst possible outcomes. Clary dying. Being guilty of her murder. The look of disbelief and devastation on Luke’s face when they tell him… the disappointment on Raphael’s face at Simon’s lack of control… the image of Clary, the torn skin of her too-pale neck, the sudden memory of her hands grasping weakly at his own as she tried to pull him off of her… </p><p>It’s too much. </p><p>He can’t sit here and wait for Magnus to return, either with the bad news he wouldn’t be able to handle or good news he wouldn’t deserve to hear. They left him here, not as a punishment, but simply to wait until they could bring him back safely. Just like Clary trusted him not to attack her, Magnus and Isabelle trusted him to stay and wait for them. </p><p>For the second time that day, Simon proves himself unworthy of that trust. </p><p>He runs. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Simon isn't sure he can ever face Clary and the others again, but that resolve wavers when Alec shows up to talk.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apparently my mind wasn't going to let this go as a oneshot, so have a bit of hope, as a treat &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Simon doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t want to go to Kyle or Eric’s house, not wanting to drag them into any potential danger if the Shadowhunters come looking for him in the city. It’d be easy enough to find him because outside of Clary and the others he really only has a few other friends, and Clary knows where all of them live to track him down. </p><p>That is if Clary survives to tell people where to find him. </p><p>Luke is out for obvious reasons, even though he gave Simon refuge in the past. The thought of going down to Florida, where Becky is, crosses his mind briefly… but he can’t risk his mother seeing him as much as the comfort of family is suddenly all he wants. </p><p>Not that Simon deserves to have anything he wants, not right now and maybe never again. </p><p>The whole thing feels like a dream, something his mind does its best to detach itself from, the memory of it playing out like a movie over and over in his head rather than something he specifically perpetrated. He never lost control like that before, not even when he first turned. It isn’t like him. He’d never hurt a fly, let alone a friend. </p><p>There’s a small part of him that knows it isn’t his fault, at least not to the extent that he blames himself. He hears Isabelle’s voice say that it’s an accident, that she knows he didn’t mean to do it. He remembers the torture, the burns, and the blisters and the starvation, and knows that what he did in the aftermath isn’t something he’d ever consciously do under normal circumstances. Hell, he’s sure that even the best vampires would’ve broken under those conditions. </p><p>Maybe if Simon could convince <em>himself </em>to believe that he could bring himself to stay and try to convince the others. </p><p>Instead, he turns to the only place he trusts himself just then - the Praetor. </p><p>“You have to help me. I hurt her. I couldn’t stop, I was so thirsty and she didn’t listen, she didn’t stay away, and-” his voice breaks off in a sob. He’s still covered in her blood, still wearing the dirty clothing he spent his captivity in, and between his appearance and his incoherent rambling they take him in and lock him in a room almost immediately. Simon goes willingly, which is probably the only reason he doesn’t find himself chained up somewhere. </p><p>The room has a bed and no windows - not necessary for him specifically, but he imagines they might not know he’s a daylighter. Simon looks at the bed longingly for a moment, trying to remember the last time he got any real rest, but instead walks himself to the far corner and sits there, pulling his knees up to his chest. </p><p>He’s left alone for a little while, and then someone knocks on the door. </p><p>“I’m going to come in,” a male voice says. “I’m armed and I have holy water. If you try to hurt me I won’t hesitate to defend myself.” </p><p>“I’m not going to hurt you,” Simons says, then frowns. “I guess that’s what someone who was about to try and hurt you would say, though, isn’t it? But I’m not. I swear I’m not. I never want to hurt anyone ever again.” </p><p>The man comes in and Simon can see the weapons on him, open in an obvious warning. Simon remains in his far corner while the man looks him over from his spot by the door. </p><p>“Are those burns on your arms?” The man asks. </p><p>Simon looks down as if he’d forgotten about them. They look much better now than when he first arrived, still working on healing now that he has the blood to sustain himself again. </p><p>“Yes,” Simon says. </p><p>“Did the person you bit do that to you?” It’s an innocent question, but Simon’s eyes widen in horror. </p><p>“No! No, she would never-” just thinking about Clary brings a sting of fresh tears to his eyes. </p><p>“Alright, alright. Deep breath. How about you start by giving me your name, and then you can try and tell me what happened, alright?” </p><p>Simon doesn’t want to talk about it. He starts and stops several times, leaving out details then backtracking to fill them in. Some bits are hazy - he still isn’t sure how long he was kidnapped for, or why - and he can see the dread dawning on the man’s face when he gets to the part about Clary and the mention of Shadowhunters. </p><p>“I ran when they took her away to heal,” Simon finishes, the guilt written all over his face at his own cowardice. </p><p>“Alright,” the man says. “Thank you for your honesty, Simon. Just stay put, alright?” </p><p>Simon is left alone again and then told that they’ll give him blood and a room to stay in under the condition that he doesn’t run from them now that he’s here. They want to watch him, make sure he isn’t a danger to anyone, himself included. Simon isn’t so sure he isn’t. He isn’t so sure if he weren’t a Daylighter he wouldn’t have run himself out into the sunlight earlier instead of here… and he isn’t even sure that would be punishment enough for what he did. </p><p>He doesn’t ask about Clary even though she’s the only thing he can think about for hours, then for days. Is she alive? Is she alright? Are Jace and the others looking for him? Did the Praetor tell them that he was here if they are? </p><p>Simon doesn’t ask any of the questions that swirl inside his head, and he hopes that as long as he doesn’t bring up the Shadowhunters no one will bring them up to him, either. </p><p>After pretty constant surveillance and a few more detailed run-throughs of what happened, they decide that he doesn’t need to be kept under lock and key. They ask him just once if he wants to know what happened to Clary and he says no immediately. They don’t ask him again. Despite the freedom to come and go now, Simon never leaves the room. He drinks the blood they bring him, paces until he thinks his legs might collapse underneath him, then sleeps, and wakes up to do it all again. Every day is the same until the day there’s a knock on his door several hours before he’s due for blood. </p><p>“Simon, you have a visitor.” </p><p>The words chill him to the bone. He stops pacing. </p><p>“No,” Simon says simply. </p><p>“You don’t even know who it is-”</p><p>“No,” Simon repeats with more force. “I can’t-” </p><p>“Simon,” says a new voice, one he immediately recognizes. “I think the least you owe us is a conversation,” says Alec Lightwood. </p><p>“Us?” Simon questions, swallowing thickly. The door is still closed. If he doesn’t open it he knows the Praetor won’t force him to. </p><p>“Figuratively speaking,” Alec clarifies. “I’m here alone. It’s only me. I just want to talk.” </p><p>He could ignore the people and the life he ran from as long as he was in this room, alone and detached. He finds it much more difficult to ignore when Alec stands on the other side of the door asking him to talk. </p><p>“Please, Simon?” </p><p>
  <em>Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“Alright,” Simon agrees slowly. He stands, frozen to the center of the room, unable to make his way to the chair by the desk or the bed to sit. The Praetor, a very nice werewolf by the name of Evan, opens the door and lingers there after Alec steps inside, watching the way Simon’s hands subconsciously tense at his sides. </p><p>“Would you like me to stay? Or we could move this to the common area…” Evan suggests, and Simon knows what he’s trying to suggest while also trying not to further upset Simon - that he doesn’t trust him alone in a room with Alec. Simon’s about to agree, surely Alec would feel safer that way after everything, but Alec speaks first. </p><p>“We’re fine,” Alec says.</p><p>Evan looks to Simon who only nods, and a moment later Evan’s gone and the door is shut behind him. </p><p>Simon would be more worried that Alec’s only here to kill him if he didn’t know the Praetor takes all weapons before letting a guest in. He may be a crappy vampire but even he can outrun an unarmed Shadowhunter. If Alec wanted to arrest him he would’ve just done that straight away. So maybe… maybe he really is just here to talk. </p><p>“Is Clary…” Simon starts, figuring they might as well get this part of the conversation over with. </p><p>Alec’s eyes widen in surprise. “They didn’t tell you?” </p><p>“I didn’t want to know,” Simon admits. “If I killed her, I couldn’t live with myself. The not-knowing was almost worse, at first, but then I figured someone would’ve come for me sooner if I killed her, so I hoped…” </p><p>“She’s fine,” Alec confirms. “It was touch-and-go for the first day. Magnus and Catarina managed to stay calm enough to reassure us, taking shifts so one of them was always there with her, but afterward, Magnus told me they didn’t think she was going to make it at the start.” </p><p>Simon takes an instinctive deep breath, despite not needing to breathe at all. It makes him feel a little better just the same. </p><p>“Whatever the punishment is - I know I panicked, and I shouldn’t have run. Whatever it is, I’ll come back and face it,” Simon manages, hoping he sounds braver about it than he feels which is not brave at all. </p><p>“You’re right about one thing - you shouldn’t have run. But I’m not here to arrest you, Simon. If we wanted to do that we would’ve done it the day the Praetor told us you were here and came to corroborate your story.” </p><p>Simon frowns. “But I-” </p><p>“You were tortured, Simon. For days. That would’ve broken even the oldest vampires. I shouldn’t have lost sight of Clary in the fight, I should’ve anticipated her running off on her own. What happened is on me, not you,” Alec says. </p><p>Simon can only gape, eyes wide, not knowing what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he backs up toward the bed and sits down on the edge of it, and Alec follows his lead to take the chair at the desk. The two of them sit in heavy silence for a minute or two before Alec speaks again. </p><p>“Do you want to know why I’m here?” </p><p>Simon knows it’s rhetorical but he nods anyway. </p><p>“Because the first thing Clary did when she woke up was ask for you,” Alec tells him. “She wanted to make sure you were okay because she knew you’d blame yourself.” </p><p>Simon laughs, but it’s dark and bitter, the sound escaping his lips in a harsh burst. Of course Clary would worry herself over him after nearly dying. After nearly dying <em>because of him</em>. </p><p>“She went out looking for you the second she was cleared to leave the infirmary - it’s probably a good thing the Praetor told us you were here, or she’d probably still be out there looking. You know she blames herself for what happened because you warned her to stay out and she didn’t listen-” </p><p>“Why are you telling me this?” Simon snaps. </p><p>“Because she’s sitting at the Institute waiting for you to come back,” Alec says simply. “And it occurred to me after nearly a week that maybe you didn’t plan on coming back.” </p><p>“Of course I didn’t. I don’t. I-” Simon’s voice breaks. “I <em>can’t</em>. Not after what I did.” </p><p>“You’re the only one who still blames yourself,” Alec says. “Even Jace regrets telling us to leave you behind.” </p><p>Simon, who remembers Jace’s reaction very vividly, somehow doubts that Jace will welcome him back into the Institute with open arms. Alec seems to read his thoughts, or maybe the doubt is just that obvious on his face. </p><p>“Though I might give him more space than the others when you come back.” </p><p><em>When</em>. The wording isn’t lost on Simon. </p><p>“If she wants to see me so badly then why isn’t she here?” Simon asks, not sure he wants to hear the answer but bracing himself for it just the same. </p><p>“The same reason you haven’t gone to visit her,” Alec says with a shrug. “You both feel too badly about what happened to make the first move. You each think you’re sparing the other by staying away.” </p><p>Simon knows that Alec wouldn’t be here just to reassure him and he knows that Alec also wouldn’t lie to spare his feelings, but he can’t find it in himself to believe that Clary wants to see him ever again, let alone right now. </p><p>“I won’t force you to come back. I just wanted to let you know that you can, whenever you’re ready.” Alec stands as he says the words, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes from sitting. “Or if you want more company here, just… let me know.” </p><p>It’s a kind offer that catches Simon off-guard. </p><p>“Thanks,” is all Simon manages before Alec gives another dismissive shrug, turns, and walks back out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. </p><p>Simon doesn’t follow. He doesn’t leave then, or later that day, determined to at least sleep on it and think over his options in the morning. Except Simon can’t fall asleep and spends hours tossing and turning instead. He could pretend before, assume that everyone hated him and blamed him and he’d never be welcomed back. It made staying away easier - it made it something he was doing for their sake, and he could justify that. </p><p>But now, knowing that not only is he allowed back but that Clary specifically would like to see him again… now Simon has to face the fact that staying away is an entirely selfish decision on his part because he doesn’t know if he’s ready. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Clary’s lifeless body, barely able to bleed out because he left her with so little blood left to lose. He sees her lifeless eyes, her paler-than-normal skin… he isn’t sure if he can ever look her in the eyes again without thinking of that moment he’d give anything to take back. </p><p>It’s nearly 4am when Simon finds one of the Praetor on the night shift and tells them that he’s leaving, just so they aren’t surprised to find his room empty later. </p><p>Stepping out into the crisp night air Simon pauses to consider his options. He can turn back around and stay... he can go to Raphael and the others at the Dumort for a while... or he can face this head-on. It doesn’t take him long to decide: he’s done enough damage lately to last him the eternity he has stretching before him. If going back will mend any piece of what he broke he owes it to Clary, if no one else, to at least try. </p><p>Simon turns resolutely towards the Institute and doesn’t look back. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Find me on  <a href="http://bytheangell.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a> and also on <a href="http://www.twitter.com/By_The_Angell">Twitter</a>! &lt;3 )</p></blockquote></div></div>
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